Father and Child
by ScarletCourt
Summary: The bond between a father and child begins at a very young age. Chapter 2: Visiting Mama. Tom takes little Miss Branson to visit Sybil. WARNING: Spoilers for 3x05, 3x06, 3x07, 3x08 and the S3 C/S. Runner-up in the January 2013 Highclere Awards in the Characterization of (Tom) Branson category.
1. Morning of the Christening

**A/N:** Sincere apologies again to those looking for some of Sybil and Tom's adventures as a married couple in Dublin, but my muse is in control these days. :(

When I saw the pictures of the christening, my muse finally struck again. Since Julian Fellowes decided to give Tom a brother named Kieran, my Ciaran has merged into his Kieran. Same universe as _The Journey to Happiness_ and _With Love from Dublin_. (**Chapter Warning:** Spoilers for 3x05, 3x06.)

Thanks to _Tripp3235_ for a quick beta of the story.

Thanks to those on tumblr who answered my question about what we know about Kieran Branson. It really helped with his part here.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All Downton Abbey characters belong to Julian Fellowes and ITV. I'm just playing with them.

**Morning of the Christening**  
"Good morning, Mr. Branson." Mrs. Rose was tidying little Sybil's room while the little one gurgled happily in her bassinet when she saw the baby's father enter the room.

"Good morning, Mrs. Rose." After taking his jacket off and placing it on a chair, Tom immediately walked over to where his daughter laid.

"Big day is it not?" The wet nurse glanced at him and smiled while she worked.

"Yes, it is." Tom let little Sybil play with his hand, while he looked around the room. "Where is her christening gown?"

"It's being pressed." Mrs. Rose smiled at Tom's enthusiasm. "We've another hour and a half yet and she'll need to be fed and changed again before we put her in that beautiful gown."

Tom picked up little Sybil who gave him a big toothless grin and gurgled in recognition. "How are you my darling girl? Did you keep Mrs. Rose up all night? Were you being a good eater?"

Little Sybil couldn't get enough of her father's Irish lilt and laughed heartily when Tom made faces at her.

"She is an angel." Mrs. Rose smiled while she folded some clean nappies. "From what I hear from the other staff, just like her mother."

Tom's heart dropped at the mention of his late wife, though he didn't stop playing with little Sybil, whose neck was now strong enough to hold up her head. After a short pause to compose himself, he managed to say, "Yes, her mother was an angel." It had been several months since Sybil's harrowing death, but Tom still missed her every day and every night. At times, his daughter had been the only thing that kept him going.

Sensing that the young widower wasn't ready to talk about his late wife, Mrs. Rose changed the topic. "Little Miss Branson is a good eater and a good sleeper. She does fuss when she's got a growing spurt, but otherwise sleeps through the night. She rolled right over this morning."

"Did she now?" asked Tom, smiling at his girl.

"On the change table." Mrs Rose put her hand to her chest. "Gave me a shock. I'd put her on her stomach, so she could practice lifting her head like Dr. Byrne said in her letter and when I was reaching for a cloth to wipe her bottom, she rolled right over. Thankfully not off the table."

Tom raised little Sybil above his head and got a big laugh out of her. When she sat in his arms, he caressed her soft cheek. "Are we rolling over now, my darling girl?" The little one smiled and gurgled at her father.

Mrs. Rose smiled. She'd never seen a more involved father in all her years as a wet nurse. "If you'd like, you can put her on the bed and see. She rolls right over almost as soon as you put her on her stomach."

Keen to see this new achievement, Tom walked over to the narrow bed in the nursery meant for the wet nurse and placed little Sybil on her front facing him and then sat down on the floor in front of her to watch. She fussed and wailed a little like she normally did when she was placed in this position and then she rolled over.

"Oh my darling girl!" Tom picked little Sybil up and kissed her sweet cheeks. Tears welled up in Tom's eyes. _If only your mother were alive to see this, she would be so proud of you._

Sensing that the young father wanted some time alone with the baby, Mrs. Rose took the opportunity to get a well-deserved break. "Mr. Branson, you don't mind if I go for a quick bite to eat and then check on her christening gown? Little Miss Branson won't need feeding for at least an hour yet."

Tom looked over at the wet nurse. "No, not at all. Take the time you need. I can manage her."

"Thank you." Mrs. Rose walked to the door. "She'll probably want a nap soon. Did you want me to swaddle her before I go?"

"I can do that, Mrs. Rose." Tom looked around for the swaddling clothes. Turning to smile at the wet nurse, he added, "Go eat."

With that, the wet nurse nodded and left.

After expertly swaddling his daughter, Tom sat on the seat by the window with little Sybil in his arms. His wife had chosen the room for their child in the last weeks of the pregnancy. It was a room close to theirs, so that she could easily get to the baby when the baby needed her in the night. Now that she was gone, it made it easier for Tom to spend time with their daughter.

The more Tom thought of Sybil, the more melancholy he felt. He kept a smile on his face for his little girl, but the smile had gone out of his eyes. Before long, little Sybil started to fuss, signalling she was tiring and ready to sleep. Tom began to rock her in his arms and hum a lullaby he remembered from his childhood. If it worked well enough for Connor, his youngest sibling, as baby, it ought to work for his daughter.

After ten minutes and some walking around, she was fast asleep. He was about to put his sleeping daughter in the bassinet when Lady Grantham came into the nursery. The two adults smiled in greeting.

"She just fell asleep," Tom whispered.

Lady Grantham walked over while Tom placed his daughter in the bassinet. Gazing at her granddaughter, she said in a low voice, "She's so sweet. Just like Sybil was when she was a baby."

Tom smiled wanly. "Mrs. Rose was just saying that Sybil is an angel just like her mother."

Lady Grantham smiled in return. "Where is Mrs. Rose? I would have thought she would have been with the baby."

"She went for a bite to eat." Tom smiled at the countess. "I don't mind. Sybil has only one parent now and I feel I ought to spend as much time as I can with her, especially since when I have a job I won't be able to."

Lady Grantham looked at her son-in-law. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I know that your brother has offered you a place in Liverpool." The countess beckoned Tom to the other side of the room to talk more freely.

"I need to find a job." Tom followed Lady Grantham but continued to glance at his sleeping daughter. "I can't stay here with Sybil forever. It's not that I don't appreciate the help, but I need to work to provide for her. It was never the long term solution to stay here. Her mother and I agreed that we would stay for the birth for little Sybil's safety. We had spoken about what to do after her lying in. She wanted to go back to nursing. Your daughter knew I had no intentions to stay."

"I know, Tom," said Lady Grantham. "But my daughter also asked me in her last conversation to keep you moving forward. Going back to working on motor cars because it's the only offer you've received isn't the solution either. I'm afraid that I know very little of what your job was like in Dublin, but would you consider looking for another journalist position here in Yorkshire?"

Tom managed to look sheepish at this juncture. "I have to admit that I haven't looked because I believed that no one would hire an Irish republican living in exile."

"Why ever not?" asked the countess. "The Irish situation is discussed in every paper these days even the Sketch. How do you know when you haven't even tried?"

Tom chuckled quietly. "Now I know where Sybil's optimism came from. She asked me the very same question when we were planning how to go about telling the family about us. She had the same faith in me as you do."

Lady Grantham smiled at her son-in-law. "My daughter had faith in you because she loved you very much. I have faith in you because I care about you as my son-in-law and as the father of my granddaughter. You must have some talent to have been offered a position in a daily paper when you'd never worked in the field before."

Tom smiled at her support. "When I worked here, I managed to publish some articles in a few monthly circulars. It was one of these articles that led to being offered the position in Dublin."

The countess considered this. "So you do have talent. The solution I'm offering is as follows. Stay here for now and apply for positions as a journalist until you've exhausted all possibilities. Based on what I'm hearing, I doubt it will come to that. Only after you've exhausted all possibilities should you consider taking your brother's offer."

"Won't his Lordship mind?" asked Tom. "He hasn't been exactly happy with any of my decisions."

"Leave his Lordship to me." Lady Grantham smiled. "I am fulfilling a promise to our daughter. I'm afraid that he will have no choice in the matter."

Tom looked at his mother-in-law in earnest. "Thank you for your support. It means a great deal."

"Thank you for giving me a beautiful granddaughter." The countess smiled. "I better get ready for the christening. I only came here to check on little Sybil."

After Lady Grantham left, Tom busied himself by tidying the tidy nursery until Mrs. Rose returned with the freshly pressed christening gown.

"Mr. Branson, you know you don't have to tidy the nursery while I'm away," chastised Mrs. Rose when she caught him with broom in hand upon her return.

"Well, 'idle hands are the devil's workshop" my mother always said and Sybil is sleeping. I couldn't just leave her."

"And pray, what I am I going to do when you're all off at the christening?"

"I'm sure you'll find something with which to occupy yourself, Mrs. Rose."

Before Mrs. Rose could retort, little Sybil started to fuss. Thinking they were too loud, Tom and Mrs. Rose quieted down in hopes that Sybil would fall back asleep, but no such luck. Soon she was fully crying.

Tom and Mrs. Rose looked at one another and Mrs. Rose said, "Sounds like she's soiled herself."

When Mrs. Rose made to pick her up, Tom held up his hand and went to her. "I can manage this."

"You know where everything is?" asked Mrs. Rose, anxiously.

Tom unwrapped the swaddling clothes and picked up his daughter as someone who has experience in handling babies. "Yes and I've told you before that Sybil isn't the first baby I've changed." Little Sybil stopped crying almost as soon as she was picked up.

"Of course, Mr. Branson." Mrs. Rose kept an eye on her charge while her charge's father changed her.

Tom lifted the gown little Sybil was sleeping in and started to undo the pins holding the nappy. "What sort of present have you left your Da?"

Little Sybil gurgled at her father.

Tom opened the nappy to reveal just a wet one. "You're being very nice to your Da." Tom continued to change little Sybil while he kept talking. "Let's wipe you clean and put the dirty one into the pail and get a clean nappy for you. I'll have to put my finger between you and the cloth while I pin it together. One pin and then another and now you have a clean bottom again." Tom then picked little Sybil up, who smiled and waved her arms about. He then turned to Mrs. Rose "Is it time to change her into the christening gown?"

"No, not yet, Mr. Branson." Mrs. Rose smiled at him. "She needs to be fed and burped first. You don't want her to spit up all over that lovely gown."

As if on cue, little Sybil started fussing and wailing. Nothing Tom did helped, so he handed her to the wet nurse. "Looks like it's up to you, Mrs. Rose. Fifteen minutes?"

"Should do the trick. I know you want to put her in the christening gown yourself. Knock before you enter, Mr. Branson." Mrs. Rose was already settling with Sybil in a chair.

"I will." Tom then picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and left the nursery.

While he was buttoning up, he came across Matthew, who was walking to his dressing room.

"Ready for the christening?" asked Matthew, matching Tom's pace.

"Almost," said Tom. "Sybil's being fed and then she'll be dressed and ready to go. You?"

"I need to change into something more appropriate." Matthew looked at Tom unsure of whether anyone else had pass this information to him. "Your brother is looking for you. He's in the library."

"Thank you. I'll go see him straight away."

* * *

When Tom arrived at the library, Kieran was admiring the shelves of books. "Must've thought you landed in heaven when you started this job, Tommy. You always did like reading."

"Those in service aren't always allowed to borrow books, Kieran." Tom was weary of his brother already.

"Didn't you crow to Ma that the Lord of the manor allowed everyone to borrow books when you started?" Kieran shot him a look.

"I suppose I did." After pausing a moment, Tom added, "I didn't know you read Ma's letters that diligently. When I was still in Ireland, she often wondered if you were all right in Liverpool because the letters that came back never did answer half her questions and the questions it did answer were often illegible and made little sense."

"We can't all be Ma's favorite, you know." Kieran scoffed.

"Let's not start this never ending argument, Kieran." Tom was clearly frustrated. "What did you want to discuss?"

Kieran turns to Tom. "I've been watching the family here and it occurs to me that you're not respected by your father-in-law. Do you really want little Sybie to grow up seeing her Da not having the respect he ought?"

"We're not staying here forever," said Tom.

"And just where are you going to go with no job, no money and no things, Tommy?" asked Kieran. "Don't you ever think about the details or is your head so high up in the clouds that you can't see?"

"I see just fine," Tom fought back.

"Not what Da thought when he was still alive," said Kieran.

"I was fourteen when he died, Kieran." Tom hated when Kieran brought up their father with whom he never saw eye to eye. "I think I've managed quite well for myself since."

"Yes, married into English nobility and now you're stuck here, where no self-respecting Irishman ought to be." Kieran looked at Tom. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Tom was about to return an angry retort when he suddenly spied a picture of his late wife on Lord Grantham's desk. Remembering why his brother was here, he took a few moments to calm down. "Look Kieran, I asked you to come here to be Sybil's godfather at her christening. Not to debate where my life has gone. I know you don't agree with some of the decisions I've made, but I'll not let you bait me into a quarrel on Sybil's first big day."

Kieran looked at Tom and held out his hand for Tom to shake. "Let us not forget the purpose of this day, but don't think that I won't be asking you again about this."

Tom took his brother's hand and shook it. "I expect no less. Are you ready?"

"I am." Kieran looked at Tom. "I was waiting for everyone else."

Tom took out his pocket watch and took a look. "I'll dress Sybil and meet you in the outer hall in ten minutes." With that Tom left his brother in the library.

* * *

Tom knocked and waited by the door of the nursery.

"Come in."

Tom looked anxiously at his daughter in Mrs. Rose's arms. "Is she ready to be changed?"

"Just burped her when you knocked." Mrs. Rose smiled and handed little Sybil to Tom. "Would you like some help?

"No, I can manage." Tom was determined to do this on his own.

Mrs. Rose looked at the young widower. "You may want to check if she's soiled herself before putting her in that beautiful gown."

Tom did a quick check by squeezing the cloth nappy with his hand and found little Sybil to be still dry and clean. "She's still clean."

"Might I suggest dressing her on the bed, so that you can lay out the gown and then place her on it," Mrs. Rose said gently.

Placing little Sybil in the crook of his left arm, Tom took the freshly pressed gown in his other hand and placed it on the bed spreading it out. He started to untie the gown she was in.

Mrs. Rose watched the eager young father. "She doesn't need to be undressed. The fabric of the gown is likely too stiff for her skin. Just place her in it dressed and let the gown cover her."

"Won't she be too warm?" asked Tom, worried about his daughter's comfort.

"No," said the wet nurse. "It's getting colder now, so the extra layer will help."

Tom diligently placed little Sybil in the generations old Crawley christening gown, stuck her little wiggly arms into the sleeves and buttoned the gown.

"Here's the bonnet." Mrs. Rose handed Tom the small piece of white fabric.

Placing the bonnet on her head, Tom gently wiggled it into place on his daughter's head and tied it under her chin.

"Here's the bib in case she spits up."

Tom took the bib and tied it in place before picking up his daughter.

"All the best at the christening." Mrs. Rose smiled at her charge and her charge's father. "You be a good girl, little Miss Branson."

"Thank you for all your help, Mrs. Rose." Tom smiled gratefully.

"We'll see you after."

* * *

When Tom arrived downstairs with little Sybil, the rest of the family including Kieran were already gathering in the outer hall.

"Here's the guest of honour," said Matthew when he noticed Tom coming down the stairs holding little Sybil.

"Let's head out, shall we?" Lord Grantham announced and everyone started out the front door.

_**Finis!**_

**A/N:** So did I get Cora and Kieran right? Mrs. Rose is just a blank slate but I see her as a stout woman in her 40s who's been a wet nurse for 10-15 years. I'd much rather be writing S/T dealing with a baby, but I'm such a canon writer that I couldn't go AU yet, no matter how sad I'm feeling.

As always, please feel free to point out any typos and grammatical errors. Sometimes no matter how hard you or your beta looks, these things get missed. Also, please feel free to point out cultural misnomers or anachronisms, I live in Canada and I know that our terms are often different than those in the UK and Ireland. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, so please do review. :)

For those still looking for Sybil and Tom's adventures in Dublin, I'm now looking to after 3x08.

P.S. Thanks to _PH_ for her daily encouragement since 3x05.


	2. Visiting Mama

**A/N:** Sincere apologies again to those looking for some of Sybil and Tom's adventures as a married couple in Dublin, my muse is stuck until at least after the C/S :(

The three nearly back to back to back trailers for the C/S has propelled me to write again because I needed to 'see' Tom visit Sybil's grave with little Miss Branson. Same universe as _The Journey to Happiness_ and _With Love from Dublin_. (**Chapter Warning:** Spoilers for 3x05, 3x06, 3x07, 3x08 and the S3 C/S.)

Thanks to _Tripp3235_ for a quick beta of the story.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All Downton Abbey characters belong to Julian Fellowes and ITV. I'm just playing with them.

**Visiting Mama**

"Good morning, my darling girl," said Tom, when he entered his daughter's room one bright fall Saturday morning. She was in her high chair being fed her breakfast of porridge by her nursery maid. Mrs. Rose had moved on a few months before when little Sybil finally weaned and replaced with Nanny.

When little Sybil saw her father, she kicked her feet and held out her hands for her father to take her. "Up!"

"Hush little one," said Nanny, with a smile. "You need to finish your breakfast, first." Looking over at Tom, she added, "Good morning, Mr. Branson. You're earlier than expected." Every Saturday morning, rain or shine, Tom would pick up his daughter after breakfast to go visit Sybil's graveside with her.

"Good morning, Nanny," said Tom, kneeling by the right side of the high chair where he could caress her little cheek while she was being fed. His eyes softened when she smiled back at him. "Since the family is in Scotland, I had a tray brought up to my room, which is why I'm early. I also thought maybe we could go for a nice walk since it's bright and sunny today. Maybe tire her out so she'd nap better in the afternoon."

"That'd be good, Mr. Branson." said Nanny, looking up at him after she fed little Sybil another spoonful. "As you know, she's been fighting her afternoon nap and then she don't want to go to sleep at night. Since she never wakes later than seven o'clock, she can be very fussy all day the next day."

Turning to his darling girl, he said, "Would you like to go for a walk my darling?"

"Da!" Little Miss Branson squealed and grinned proudly with her eight teeth, turning her head to look at her father and avoiding the next spoonful of porridge that Nanny tried to put into her mouth.

"Little Miss Branson," said Nanny, a little more sternly. "You must eat your breakfast before you can go with your father."

Looking up at the nursery maid, Tom asked, "May I feed her the rest?"

"Of course, Mr. Branson." The stout, middle-aged woman smiled at the child's father, immediately vacated her seat in front of the high chair for him and handed him the bowl and spoon. Mrs. Rose had told her that Mr. Branson was the most involved father she had ever met before she left and after a few weeks, Nanny had to agree. It was the easiest job she ever had since Mr. Branson would take his daughter for hours at a time on the weekends when he wasn't working, leaving her time to tidy the nursery and even catch the occasional nap.

Sitting down after taking his jacket off first, Tom took a sniff of the porridge which smelled of cinnamon and apples. "Did you put applesauce into the porridge, Nanny? Smells delicious."

"I did since the apple harvest started," said Nanny, smiling at the father and her charge. "Little Miss Branson likes it better that way and it also cools the hot porridge a little."

Tom then took a spoonful and put it into his daughter's waiting mouth. "That's my good girl!" Tom smiled at his daughter, who was smart enough to smile back with a closed mouth full of porridge. He couldn't help but think how adorable she was.

"Do you need me to help with getting her ready and dressed?" asked Nanny. Usually after breakfast on a Saturday, Mr. Branson would change and dress the girl for their morning together, but Nanny always asked.

"No, just tell me where to put the bowl and spoon when she's done." Tom smiled at his daughter, offering her another spoonful that she readily took.

"Leave it on the tray and I'll take it down when I return. Daisy sent a couple of biscuits for little Miss Branson for your visit." Nanny put on her shawl.

"That's very kind of her." Tom smiled. "Please thank her for us."

"I will, Mr. Branson." Turning to little Miss Branson, she added, "You be a good girl for your father, you hear?"

"Nana." The little girl held up her hand and waved bye-bye.

"You're a sweet little girl, Miss Branson." Nanny smiled at her charge. With one last look at the father, she added, "Don't forget to put her on the potty before you put a new nappy on her, Mr. Branson. It's good practice and it helps with her rashes."

"I will, thank you." Tom smiled at the nursery maid before feeding another spoonful to his darling girl.

After the nursery maid left, Tom looked at his daughter. "Are you going to be a good girl for your Da?"

"Da!" said little Sybil, reaching for his nose.

Tom made a face at her and she tried to imitate him before dissolving into hysterical laughter. Before long, little Sybil was finished her breakfast and Tom looked around quickly to find a clean washcloth. Running into the adjoining bathroom to get some water, Tom quickly returned to find little Sybil attempting to escape the high chair. "No, Sybil! Please sit down." Tom spoke a little harsher than he intended.

A little stunned, little Sybil sat back down in the chair and stared at her father, blinking her eyes, her bottom lip quivering.

Picking her up from her high chair, Tom held her against him. "Shhhh. It's all right, my darling girl. Your da was just worried you'd fall and break your neck. Shhhh." After a few minutes of this tender, loving care, little Sybil stopped sniffling and put a small smile on her face for her father.

Looking around, Tom picked a small dress that Mary had brought back from London last month that was not only pretty but serviceable. Evidently, impending motherhood had put some practicality into his sister-in-law. He always wanted little Sybil to look well for the visits to Sybil's graveside, but being in the grass meant that dresses with only frills that Lady Grantham often bought meant a lot of work cleaning them for either Nanny or the laundry staff.

Glancing at the toddler in his arms, Tom smiled. "Shall we check your nappy?" Quickly placing her on her back he unpinned the nappy to find it dry and clean. Knowing that this was an opportune time to try the potty, he quickly picked her up and put her on the floor before pulling the old chamber pot out from the lowest shelf. After placing it on the floor, he crouched down and sat little Sybil on it. "C'mon, darling! Go for your Da." Making the sound of an emptying bladder, he prayed that she would follow suit. At first, she looked at him and played with his nose and tried poking at his eye, but eventually he could hear the beautiful, tinkling sound of urine hitting the potty.

When she was done, she grinned at him.

"That's my good girl." Tom smiled at his darling girl with the straight, sandy mop. He had hoped that she would have Sybil's beautiful curls when she grew hair, but alas it was not to be.

Reaching for the toilet paper on the shelf beside where the potty was kept, he delicately wiped her bottom and put her clean nappy back on before emptying and rinsing the chamber pot in the adjoining bathroom, keeping her near him to prevent mischief. He made the mistake the first time when he forgot her mobility and he came back to all sorts of items on the lower shelves strewn about the floor where she had sat down.

Before long, they were on the way. The walk to the family graveyard at the church was a decent amount and while they were on the gravel roads, he held her in his arms, but once they cut through the woods and entered a grassy pasture, he put her down to her delight and she toddled off in the direction of her choosing, distracted by a butterfly that fluttered by. Since they were not in any hurry, he let her wander a bit to exercise those still slightly chubby legs. When she wandered a bit too far, she would turn to look for him and beckon him first with her eyes and then her voice.

"Da!" Little Sybil waved her arms up and down as if to say 'come with me this way'.

Tom stood still to see what she would do next.

Seeing that her father was not moving, little Sybil looked at him again. "Da!" She then pointed in the direction she wanted to go. "Da!"

"Very well, I will come with you, my darling girl." Unable to resist her urging, Tom started to move.

Now that he looked to follow her, she toddled to a flower she spied. Pretending to smell it, she stuck her dainty little nose just above it and crinkled it slightly.

Tom could not help but think how adorable she looked doing that and wished that Sybil had lived to see and experience it with him. As always, his heart dropped like a stone at the thought and though he no longer had to fight the tears, the light in his eyes dimmed and his thoughts turned inward.

"Da!" Little Sybil called, pointing at something.

When Tom looked up, she had wandered off another fifteen feet. Quickly moving forward to where she was, he crouched down to look at what she had now picked up and put into her mouth. "Sybil, no. Don't put that in your mouth." Tom groaned when he saw she had put a mid-size pebble into her mouth and was sucking on it. _What is it with children and putting stones in their mouths?_ His much younger brother, Connor, had done the same at this age and wrestling the stone from his mouth against his will had inevitably led to screaming and crying. Not wanting to go that route, he held out his hand in front of her mouth. "Sybil, spit out the pebble."

She shook her little head and grinned at him with the pebble between her teeth.

"Dirty, Sybil." Tom pleaded. "The pebble is dirty. Please give it to your da."

Shaking her head again, she refused to relinquish the stone.

"Am I going to have to make you laugh it out?" Tom asked. He leaned her forward a little so if she opened her mouth, the pebble would drop out and he started to tickle her belly. After a couple of tickles, she started laughing and the stone fell to the ground.

When little Sybil leaned down to retrieve it, Tom picked her up so that she was out of its reach. Distracting her from the stone, he lifted her up above his head while walking away which brought squeals of laughter. Bringing her down so she sat on the crook of his left arm, he added, "Are you hungry my darling?" A quick look at his wrist watch showed that it had been nearly an hour and a half since she ate her porridge which meant that she was likely ready for a snack.

"Would you like some of Daisy's biscuits?" asked Tom, pulling two biscuits wrapped in a handkerchief out of the pocket of his jacket for her.

Little Sybil smiled and reached for a biscuit. She started eating while Tom walked on the path in the direction of the graveyard.

Just before they reached Grantham Village, they encountered Mr. Mason walking in the opposite direction. First waving from afar, Mr. Mason greeted Tom by tipping his hat when he was within speaking distance. "Good Morning, Mr. Branson. Is this little Miss Branson?" Mr. Mason stopped in front of the father and daughter.

"Good Morning, Mr. Mason." Tom touched his hat in return. "Yes, this is Sybil. Sybil, this is Mr. Mason. He has a farm just yonder and is a friend of Daisy, who gave us these biscuits." Little Sybil was somewhat apprehensive of him, even in her father's arms, but continued to eat her biscuit quietly.

"She's gotten big since I last saw her in the spring." Mr. Mason smiled. "She walking now?"

Tom nodded. "Since just after her birthday in July." Not wanting to think too much about circumstances surrounding her birthday, he changed the subject. "How is the harvest going? New crops providing well for you?" As the estate manager, Tom had gotten familiar with all the tenants and their various crops, often visiting a farm over the winter to see what the plans were, just before planting to see whether the plans remained the same, in mid-summer to see the status of the crops and during harvest. Mr. Mason's farms were one of the last ones on his list this harvest season as the visit over the summer had gone very well.

"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Mason. "Your suggestion of switching my third barley field for wheat has done well. Too bad I didn't listen to you when you suggested last fall that I give up my other barley fields for blackface sheep. My neighbour, Dick Brown, did and he's just picking apples from his orchard now during the harvest season from all the wool he shorn in the summer, while I have to pick apples and harvest the grains."

"What does Daisy think?" asked Tom. When he visited Mr. Mason over the winter, he was surprised to find Daisy there. When Mr. Mason explained that when he was gone, Daisy would be taking over, Tom sat down with the both of them to discuss the crops for next year. While Daisy had been quietly listening to Tom and Mr. Mason discuss the crops at the farmhouse, when they returned to the big house together, Daisy asked a number of very astute questions that surprised Tom greatly. After that, all his meetings with Mr. Mason included Daisy and Daisy started having an equal voice on what was done at the farm.

"She thinks that we should make the other two barley fields pastures next year, but that would mean that we'd have to invest in some fencing." Mr. Mason took off his hat and scratched his head. "Not sure if the harvest would have enough left to pay for that and I don't want to consider credit."

Tom thought for a moment while he gave little Sybil the second biscuit. "Can you not move your two adjoining wheat fields with Mr. Brown to the barley fields for now so that you would already have one side of the fencing in place? Would cut your fencing costs down by a quarter."

Mr. Mason nodded. "That's a possibility. Let me talk to Daisy about it and let you know when you come for your visit at the end of the harvest. Bring little Miss Branson with you if you'd like. Been awhile since William was her age. Might brighten up the house a little." He smiled and winked at the child, who stopped eating her biscuit long enough to give Mr. Mason a shy smile.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Mason." Tom smiled genuinely. "I might just do that to give her a change in scenery."

"Have yourself a good Saturday, Mr. Branson." Mr. Mason nodded. "Bye-bye, little Miss Branson."

Loosening one hand's hold on the biscuit, little Sybil waved her free arm. "Bye-bye."

"You, too, Mr. Mason." Tom then turned to continue his trek to the graveyard.

Little Sybil turned in Tom's arms to watch Mr. Mason proceed down the path in the other direction. "Bye-bye."

* * *

They entered the church graveyard approximately a half hour later. When he walked down the path from the church to the road, he was flooded by all the memories of Sybil - Miss Swire's funeral, Mary and Matthew's wedding, Edith and Sir Anthony's non-wedding, and then, of course, Sybil's funeral, a short fifteen months before. He thanked God that he had chosen to baptize his daughter in the Catholic faith and to attend Mass in Ripon regularly. He was certain that he couldn't come to this church for service on a regular basis and not be haunted by the funeral service.

Coming here to visit Sybil's grave was different. It was bonding time with little Sybil and to help her keep a connection, however tenuous, to her mother and it didn't include anyone else. When he arrived at the row of headstones that included Sybil's, little Sybil moved to show she wanted down. When he didn't let her immediately, she was quite imperious and insisted, "Down!"

Since she just finished the last biscuit before they entered church property, Tom took the handkerchief that held the biscuits and wiped her hands and face, much to her chagrin, before letting her down.

Quickly she toddled to her mother's headstone. Turning to look at him, she pointed at it. "Mama."

"Yes, my darling girl." Tom smiled at her. "We're visiting your mama."

Walking up to the headstone, she kissed it like he taught her in the spring. Then she hugged it before she wandered to look at the other headstones. The graveyard was mostly grass, so while Tom did keep an eye on his daughter, he spent some time standing in front of the headstone, talking to Sybil after kissing it first. The first time he did this in the spring, he ended up in tears despite having little Sybil with him and it took the walk back to compose himself, but as the visits continued and spring turned into summer and summer into fall, he felt better being able to talk to her even if she didn't respond. She was his soulmate and it pained him each time he thought of how she was lying in the cold ground, while he was still very much alive and parted from her.

"So what can I tell you today, love?" Tom started tentatively after a few minutes of silence. It was always so difficult to start the conversation, but once he started, it always became easier. "Our little girl is getting so big. I so wish that you were here to see her. As I told you this summer, she has my hair much to my disappointment, but she has your nose. She's just walking over to one of the other headstones to examine it. She looks so very studious."

Taking his eyes of little Sybil for just a moment, he continued, "The harvest is booming, so I am happy I can take some credit with helping some of the farmers. The family is in Scotland with Lord and Lady Flintshire and your cousin Rose. They had invited me, but I didn't feel that we could be parted from you and miss our Saturday visits. There's a fair coming and all the advertisements talk about is this new carousel. Remember when I started at Downton the day the fair was in the village? I still remember driving you and your mother and Edith to and from it on my first day. I thought you beautiful the first moment I saw you and I stayed up half that night thinking of what I could talk to you about when I had to drive you to Ripon the next day. I miss you so much my love."

Seeing that little Sybil was wandering a bit far, Tom walked over and took her hand and walked her back to Sybil's headstone before continuing, "I dream of you often, Sybil, and I'm always so happy until I wake and you're not in bed beside me. I don't cry as often when I'm alone in our room anymore, but sometimes it still catches me by surprise. Like the other night, when I dreamt we were still in Dublin and we celebrated the completion of your nursing course by going to the park, lying down on the ground and just looking at the stars. How I wished that we had more time and more moments."

Seeing other people come into the graveyard to visit their loved ones, Tom turned so they couldn't see his tears and he quickly wiped them before looking at the headstone again that read, _Lady Sybil Patricia Branson, 1896-1920. Loving wife, daughter, sister and mother. May she rest in peace_.

Little Sybil started to fuss that Tom was not allowing her to roam free, so Tom knew it was time to go. "We'll be going now, love. Others have arrived to visit their loved ones and it's getting close to luncheon so our daughter will start fussing soon even with the two biscuits Daisy sent with us today. We'll be back next week, same day, same time, rain or shine."

With that Tom touch the headstone again before picking up little Sybil and headed back to Downton.

_**Finis!**_

**A/N2: **What did you think? If you wondered whether toddlers eat rocks, the episode in this story is pretty much a transcription of a number adventures my daughter had when she was this age.

With the addition of Edna, the new maid, who is persistent in her pursuit of Tom in the S3 Christmas Special especially since we're seeing her get close enough to kiss him, I don't know how many more of these canon stories I can write, so I thought I'd give it one more shot before possibly pursuing AUs where Sybil lives or Tom continues to mourn. Certainly I will go back an fulfill my promise of writing more for _With Love from Dublin_ because I need to write S/T and the only canon available to me now is the time they had in Dublin.

**I would also like to thank the lovely reader(s) who nominated the first chapter of this fic for the Highclere Awards. Was quite surprised and pleased by this development. Thank you so very much! :) ****(For more details, see www. highclereawards. com (removing spaces).)**

As always, please feel free to point out any typos and grammatical errors. Sometimes no matter how hard you or your beta looks, these things get missed. Also, please feel free to point out cultural misnomers or anachronisms, I live in Canada and I know that our terms are often different than those in the UK and Ireland. As always, I'd love to hear what you think, so please do review. :)

For those still looking for Sybil and Tom's adventures in Dublin, I'm now looking to after the Christmas Special.

P.S. Thanks to _PiperHolmes_ for her constant encouragement since 3x05.


End file.
